Gemotions

The invitation to lunch with Sarah was… unexpected. They’d barely exchanged pleasantries in the break room, and now, a week before the promotion was announced, Sarah was suggesting a midday meal. He agreed, though his gut clenched. He spent the morning meticulously reviewing their project proposals, circling every contribution Sarah made, noting the dates, the wording, the placement of her name.

He arrived at the restaurant first, choosing a table with a clear view of the entrance. His palms were damp. He watched the door, fidgeting with the silverware. When Sarah finally strode in, her smile felt forced, her eyes a little too bright.

“So,” she began, after the waiter had taken their order, “What are your hopes for the promotion?” Her voice was airy, but the question felt loaded. He responded, choosing his words carefully, acutely aware of the weight of each syllable. He felt a throbbing pulse behind his right eye as he answered, trying to gauge her reaction.